Wings of a Dove (43 page)

    Nodding briefly to the young woman posed so artfully in the doorway of the post office, her fashionably coiffed brown hair contrasting well with her green walking ensemble, Delaney felt a glimmer of recognition flash across his mind. He had seen her in much the same spot on several occasions this week. The woman's heavy-lidded glance answered the question his mind had posed, and he absentmindedly thought he probably should be flattered to be so pursued. He wasn't.

    Delaney pulled open the street door and started up the stairs to the
Tribune
office. As Mulrooney had commented several months before, he hadn't been much interested in women since arriving in Chicago, aside from the physical comfort they provided. He had told himself he was too busy to allow a woman a place in his life.

    Pushing open the door of the
Tribune
's noisy city room, Delaney nodded toward the reporters who turned his way. A feeling of mutual respect existed between him and his co-workers, but he had not gotten close to any of them. Since joining the staff    seven months before, he had steadfastly devoted himself to the advancement of his career. He had taken time for little else.

    Pausing at Mulrooney's office, Delaney knocked briefly. After catching the editor's eye through the window, he entered and pulled the door shut behind him.

    ''What are you doing here, Marsh? You're supposed to be out covering the Sanitary Commission meeting. You know how strongly I feel about that organization. There's a real need for the services of a nonpartisan group to overlook the suffering that comes about as a part of an extended war, and since it looks as if this war's going to be extended for a few more years"

    "I took care of it."

    "What do you mean, you took care of it?"

    "Just what I said." Reaching into his coat pocket, Delaney withdrew some folded sheets of paper. "I interviewed the principals on the committee yesterday, and I've already written the story. That should beat all the other dailies into print. You can send somebody to do a short report on the meeting."

    Delaney threw the papers onto the desk, but Mulrooney gave them only a brief glance. "We can talk about that later. I've got something else I want to discuss with you. Sit down."

    Delaney's nerve endings were prickling. "No, I'll stand."

    "Suit yourself."

    Mulrooney drew his full bulk to his feet. He walked to the window facing the street, his deep voice rumbling over his shoulder as he spoke. "We've had a few talks about your work since you started working for the
Tribune
, Marsh."

    Delaney nodded, his expression tightening. The silence caused Mulrooney to turn in his direction.

    "You were good when you came here. I told you then I saw great promise in you. I also told you that you were a cold bastard and it showed in your work."

    Delaney did not respond.

    Taking a few steps forward, Mulrooney rested his large palms on his desk to look up into Delaney's cautious expression. "How much do you know about Albert Holmes Bodman?"

    Mulrooney's question was unexpected, and Delaney took a moment to gather his thoughts.

    "Not much," he said, finally. "I know he's the
Tribune
's top war correspondent. I've never met him, but I hear he's young,     sharp, intelligent, and dedicated to his work. I also hear he's quiet and a bit of a recluse. On the other hand, he's supposed to be a damned good poker player and a man who knows where to invest his money and when. I've heard some of the other men call him 'the cotton broker.' They say that he's made a lot of money, that everything he does is legal and aboveboard, and that it doesn't interfere with the performance of his job. Of course, that's all speculation. I don't know if there's any truth in it."

    "I'd say there is. Bodman is investing his money in real estate. He'll probably be a very wealthy man someday. But I'm not thinking about someday. I'm thinking about now and about the job he's doing for us. In a few short words, he's the best there is."

    Delaney nodded, still uncertain of the point Mulrooney was trying to make.

    "We received a wire from Bodman last night," the editor went on. "He wants to take a short leave in a few months. He's with Grant at Vicksburg, and he says it's his personal opinion the rebs are finished there, although they don't know it yet. As soon as Vicksburg surrenders, he wants to come back north for a few weeks."

    "So…?"

    "We'll be sending him back to whatever spot is the hottest after that. I'd like to send you along with him."

    Delaney was taken totally by surprise by the editor's statement.

    Mulrooney's stare intensified at Delaney's silence. "You're good, Marsh, but you have a lot to learn. I've told you that before. The truth is, you aren't going to learn it covering the Sanitary Commission meetings and dodging the pretty ladies waiting for you in the doorway downstairs."

    The thought that he had been right about Mulrooney not missing much occurred to him as Delaney met Mulrooney's fixed gaze. "You're thinking Bodman can teach it to me?"

    "I don't know. But I do know if you haven't learned what you need by the time you come back from working with him, you never will. I'm offering you the chance of a lifetime, Marsh. I think you're up to the challenge, but neither you nor I will ever know unless you try."

    The slow smile that curved Delaney's lips was touched with irony. "I suppose you came to this decision last night, after you got the wire from Bodman."

    Mulrooney looked annoyed with his response. "What difference does it make when I made the decision to offer you this spot?"

    "It doesn't. It's just that I came to a decision last night, too. I came in here this morning to tell you I wanted to take a few days off."

    The editor's annoyance increased. "What in hell does one have to do with the other?"

    "I expect to be going back to Michigan for a day or so, and when I return, I'll be bringing somebody back with me."

    An extended silence ensued. It was broken at last by Mulrooney's incredulous tone. "Well, I'll be goddamned. A woman."

    Delaney did not reply.

    "You're going to pass up the chance of a lifetime because you don't want to leave a woman?"

    Again Delaney did not respond. He did not feel the need to tell Mulrooney that after seven months, it had finally become clear to him that he already
had
passed up the chance of a lifetime. He had also admitted to himself that he had been a stupid, jealous fool who had allowed pride to stand in the way of following his heart. Most important of all, he had finally acknowledged to himself that Allie was a part of him, that she always would be, and that his life was empty without her.

    Neither did he feel a need to tell Mulrooney that he was determined to do whatever he must to bring Allie back with him.

    The new assignment was out of the question. He would not go.

    "Marsh, answer me, dammit!"

    "I'm sorry."

    After a few minutes more of silence, Mulrooney lowered himself into his chair. He picked up the carefully written article Delaney had put on his desk. He did not look up as he spoke.

    "Bodman probably won't be coming up this way for a while, yet. Think it over. I'll talk to you again when you get back."

    Grateful for the abrupt end to the conversation, Delaney nodded and turned and within moments was weaving his way through the city room toward the doorway.

    In his mind, Allie was already in his arms.

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    The landscape flashing past the windows of the rapidly moving train was almost obscured by darkness, but Delaney sensed a vague familiarity in the gradually lightening shadows. The rhythmic clicking of the rails was strangely soothing. The sway of the car and the screeching whistle that echoed in the darkness brought back memories of another time.

    He remembered another view, seen through the open doors of a boxcar filled with orphans as it rattled through the countryside. Orchards filled with apples, fields of pumpkins" mushmillons" spread out before the eyes of youngsters travelling toward an unknown destination. He remembered the sounds in the darkness within the car as day slowly faded into night. He remembered the congestion, the lack of air, the small bodies curled in sleep surrounding him on the floor. He had been immune to the discomfort and to the plight of the others. He had not considered himself a part of that group of needy children. He had not been a child, despite his young age. He had been old beyond his years, a prison boy hardened by circumstance and determined never to suffer at the will of society again.

    A smile touched Delaney's lips as another memory returned. A small, pale-haired girl crawled between the sleeping children, inching her way toward him. A child, pathetically thin, she continued to approach, her dark eyes apprehensive but determined. She hesitated a short distance from him as he feigned sleep, then reached for the chain around his neck. He grasped her hand, and her dark eyes snapped wide open with fear. They looked directly into his.

    The memory changed Allie, a woman, was in his arms, lying close to him. The taste of her fresh on his lips, her warm body scent taunted him as she lay flush against his flesh. His hands tangled in the pale silk of her hair as he lowered his mouth to hers again, drinking deeply of the joy she gave him. He had not believed such joy possible. He felt that he had never been truly alive before that moment, that he could not get enough of her, that he would never let her go. He had told her he loved her, that he would always love her. He wanted to love and care for her all the days of his life.

    It all had changed so quickly. He had been struck to the heart     when Allie unexpectedly left his side. It had been too soon after their lovemaking for him to share her with anyone. He had been filled with bitterness and disbelief when she put a different kind of love ahead of her love for him.

    He had turned and walked away, certain almost until the last moment that Allie would never let him leave without her. But she had. The bitterness that had always been so much a part of his life had then returned full measure.

    But that angry young man had finally overcome the hostile prison boy inside him. He had finally come to his senses. He had acknowledged that after seven long months of separation, Allie was as much a part of him as she always had been. He knew that no matter how hard he denied it, it would always be so.

    He had also acknowledged that life had no joy without her.

    The shadowed sky was gradually lightening. It would be almost dawn when the train reached the Cass County station. His heart drumming, Delaney ran a nervous hand through his hair and adjusted his position in the seat. He could almost feel Allie in his arms, could almost taste her mouth. The echo of her soft voice reverberated in his mind, and he longed for her with such intensity that it was almost pain.

    Their separation would soon come to an end, but it could not be soon enough.

    Allie turned in bed and adjusted her position. She was unusually restless. Glancing toward the window, she searched the night sky for the first trace of dawn. She saw it in the subdued glow that began to raise the darkness. She heard it in the first chirping sounds from the tree beyond her window. She felt it in the sudden movement of the child within her.

    James's warm hand curled around her distended abdomen, and she was again grateful that her appearance was deceiving, that her pregnancy did not appear as advanced as it was. Her misleading appearance had allowed no speculation about the baby she carried being other than James's child. For James's sake, she wished it were true.

    His gentle lips brushed her ear with a whisper. "Is anything wrong, Allie?"

    Allie shook her head, meeting James's concerned expression with a small smile. "No. I can't seem to sleep, that's all."

    James pulled her closer, fitting her into the curve of his body, and the seldom-dormant ache inside Allie stirred to life anew. She fought to silence the voice within her, which cried out Delaney's name. She sought to concentrate on James's voice as he whispered loving words in her ear. She wished with all her heart that she could love James as he loved her, that she could cast Delaney from her heart forever.

    Delaney was already standing on the boarding step when the train pulled into the station. Not waiting for it to come to a full halt, he leaped onto the platform and headed toward Mosley Rourke's livery stable at a pace just short of a run.

    Grateful that the train had arrived ahead of schedule, bringing him into the station just before dawn, Delaney carefully avoided being seen. He turned into a familiar alley that led to the rear door of the livery. He was determined word of his return would not reach the farm ahead of him. It was his intention to catch Allie alone somewhere before the family was aware of his presence. He wanted to speak to her without being interrupted and without the pressure of interference. He intended to take her back with him on the noon train. It would not do to prolong the agony. They had been apart too long.

    Working at the feed bin, Rourke did not see him enter through the rear door of the stable. Delaney nearly laughed at the shock so clearly displayed on the man's heavily
stubbled
face when he turned with a start at the sound of Delaney's step.